


You

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Error/Dream Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 10:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18915502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Suddenly, you were like a new toy. One I wanted to repair, to smooth the jagged edges off of. I did well. You became as docile as someone such as you could be. I helped you see that touch wasn’t bad. That it could be enjoyed. Slowly, ever so slowly, I was able to bring you out of your self-imposed exile.That’s when you met him.I should have kept you isolated.





	You

**Author's Note:**

> I heard it was Error x Dream week.

I was always trying to get you to realize that sometimes, destroying wasn’t the answer. 

I was your greatest enemy, your only equal. 

I was the only one in the entire Multiverse who could slow you down. You’d deny it, but I bested you a few times. 

Each and every time I had you down in the dirt, I offered you a metaphorical olive branch. I literally extended my hand in friendship. One day, no precursor in sight, you accepted, but you didn’t grab my hand. No, you still couldn’t bare the touch of another monster, especially mine of all. 

You quit destroying and sat in your lonely Anti Void, watching that silly telenovela and eating stolen chocolates. I visited you often, but I was the only one. The only one who dared sit in the vicinity of the ruthless destroyer who had killed thousands. But that was fine. 

I had you to myself. 

Suddenly, you were like a new toy. One I wanted to repair, to smooth the jagged edges off of. I did well. You became as docile as someone such as you could be. I helped you see that touch wasn’t bad. That it could be  _ enjoyed.  _ Slowly, ever so slowly, I was able to bring you out of your self-imposed exile. 

That’s when you met  _ him.  _

We were in Outertale, your favorite, stargazing. We were silent, only looking up at the vast and stunning emptiness of space. At least, you were. I was looking at you. 

You’re beautiful, you know that? 

A beauty only an artist can see. You’re striking, even glaring, at first glance. But you’re colorful, the brightness of your contrasting colors creating a brilliance against your black bones. I liked to study you. You were intriguing, and I couldn’t keep myself away. I was a moth to a flame, my wings getting singed every time I begged for more. 

I should have kept you isolated. 

When  _ he  _ appeared that day, that ominous day, _ he _ just wanted my opinion on something.  _ He _ started when _ he  _ spotted you.  _ He _ was hesitant, shy,  _ scared.  _ And I, such a foolish monster, attesting to your agreeable nature. 

We all sat together, him next to you, as if showing you he believed me. You showed him a trick with your strings, weaving the magical accoutrements through your fingers. He laughed. He relaxed. Soon, it wasn’t just an act he was putting on. 

The Guardian of Positive Emotions stole you from me. 

How ironic. 

Before long, I would show up at your door only to find you not home. I pretended I was fine with it. You could have other friends. I had plenty of other friends. But you were special. 

I was special. 

Wasn’t I?

_ I _ was the one who fought so hard for you. 

_ I _ was the one with permanent scars from you. 

_ I _ was the one who had finally worn you down. 

_ I _ was the one… 

_ I was… _

_ I _ was your  _ first _ . 

It’s true, I didn’t know my own feelings. I didn’t understand. How could a soulless being understand? But the pain… The pain of stumbling into the Anti Void, seeing the two of you locked together, was worse than any attack you could, or would, ever send my way. 

Yellow paint. 

So much. 

Yellow paint. 

I couldn’t help myself. 

I thought. 

I wished. 

I rationalized. 

It was his aura. 

You were attracted to it. It made you feel good. It was warm and comforting. You felt something you hadn’t in a very long time. I lied to myself, somedays, and whispered, 

“I made you feel that way.” 

Did you not like our games? 

My teasing, you stringing me up as if I were a Gyftmas ham. 

Me, painting an intricate pattern onto your bare skull. You, threatening to break my bones, but only feeling up to breaking a pinky. 

Your mouth meeting mine. Me, pushing you down. You, cursing with every touch. Me, watching your beautiful reactions. You, relenting. You, giving in. You, allowing yourself to smile. 

Now him. 

Him, who gives you… 

What?

What does he give that I can’t? 

Ah, yes. 

_ A soul. _

How much paint can one skeleton consume before he is able to recreate the foundation of life? 

I don’t know. 

I threw up before I got there. 

I spoke with _ him _ . 

He’s happy. 

I spoke with _ you _ . 

You’re happy. 

Suddenly, there was no point in the paints. 

I gave up on them. If I consumed them, I was in hell. 

Not feeling… 

It’s best this way. 

_ He _ was the first one to notice. 

“Ink… You don’t look well. Is something wrong?” He asked, with that standard concerned look on his face. I could barely look at him.

“Everything’s normal.” I replied. 

He had enough sense not to say anything else. 

When the color had all drained, when I was finally released from the prison that calls itself emotion, I went to see them. 

But I only found  _ you _ . 

“Ink?” You looked up from your window into Undernovela. 

“Error.” I stated. 

You watched me, you looked at me, you  _ stared  _ into me only the way you could. You knew. You knew what I had done. You knew what I was. But you didn’t know why I came. 

“No paint? Bold move, rainbow ass.” You huffed and turned back to your show. 

You turned your back on me. 

I refused to have you  _ turn your back on me.  _

I can’t remember what happened next. 

I woke up, your strings holding me tight. Your eyes wild. Your clothes torn. 

“Ink. You. Bastard.” You panted. We must have fought. I saw cracks in my bones but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about them. I didn’t care about Dream. 

I didn’t… 

I couldn’t…

I cared about you. 

“What happened?” I croaked. 

“You’re a psycho.” You spat. You mumbled to yourself and pulled something out of your sleeve. A vial. A vial, with every color of the rainbow. A cocktail. A homemade cocktail you kept on your person. A vial. For me. 

You walked over and forced my mouth open. I fought you every step of the way. I wouldn’t let you. I couldn’t let you. I would feel. I didn’t want to feel. I never wanted to feel again. You popped the cork off with your thumb. I made a hellish sound, but you didn’t pour the vial into my mouth. Instead, you tipped it back into your own. My jaw went slack. 

That was the opening you needed. 

Quickly, you forced your mouth on mine, pushing the paint into my own. I had no choice but to swallow, gasping and coughing. You pulled away, grimacing and wiping your mouth on your sleeve. You watched me, waiting for my eye lights to begin changing shape once more before releasing me. 

“You’re an ass, you know that?” You growled. 

I laughed. 

“Yep! Sure do!” 

You glared at me and opened a portal. 

“Don’t come back here again.” You commanded. 

“What? Why would I do that?” Another laugh. 

“Because if you do…” You thought about it. 

You couldn’t promise to destroy universes. 

_ He _ wouldn’t let you. 

But you could promise: 

“I’ll kill you.” 

My smile never left. 

“You haven’t been able to do that yet.” A jeer. A chance to look at you one last time. 

“You’re right.” You waited a brief pause. “But you ever endanger _ him _ , I will.” 

“Aw. So cute. Are you in love?” 

You glared. 

The color rose in your cheeks. 

The reality pushed down on me. 

“Yes.” You whispered. 

I left. 

And for the only time in my life, 

I kept a promise. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
